


thanks sarah

by cute_lil_fluff



Series: ot4 pu: channie [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mnet Asian Music Awards, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 15:34:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15512964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cute_lil_fluff/pseuds/cute_lil_fluff
Summary: Any award show is always stressful, but the MAMAs are another level. The MAMAs are intense, and loud, and seemingly never-ending. Chan doesn’t like intense, loud, or endless - he doesn’t like it at all.updated 12/10/18





	thanks sarah

Any award show or music program is always stressful, but the MAMAs are on another level. They are surrounded by the biggest artists in the kpop industry and, although just the fact that they’re there reflects on their hard work and achievements, it always serves to make them feel small by comparison. At the same time, there’s so much pressure mounted on their shoulders to be the best, to win every award they’re nominated for, and to perform to the best of their ability. The MAMAs are intense, and loud, and seemingly never-ending.

Chan doesn’t like, intense, loud, or endless. He doesn’t like it at all.

They’ve been here for hours now - signing in, rehearsing on the stage, getting makeup slathered on their faces, live streaming, rehearsing in the dressing room, getting into their outfits - and they haven’t even performed yet. They won’t be doing that for another two hours, at least, and the show’s almost certainly going to run behind schedule, meaning they won’t get back to the dorms until very early in the morning.

Chan’s already exhausted, and the day’s not even half over.

These types of things are always going to be stressful and tiring, but they can also be a lot of fun. It’s a great honour and opportunity to be involved, and they are able to meet some of the people they look up to the most, and it’s hard to complain about dressing up and performing in front of such a large audience. However, for a person as anxious as Chan, he can’t seem to focus on the good bits when he’s already irritated. If something sets him off, then he’s going to be miserable for the rest of the night, despite knowing that he should be more grateful.

Tonight, regretfully, it’s the audience. They are so loud that they can easily be heard all the way back in the dressing rooms, and it’s grating on Chan’s nerves. On stage, he can channel the energy and enthusiasm of the crowd into his performance, but off-stage? It just sounds like screaming. He _feels_ like screaming.

Currently, Chan’s perched on one end of one of the sofas in their dressing room, gnawing on his thumb nail and jerking his knee up and down. He must look a state, sat in an expensive suit and pretty make-up, basically rocking himself back and forth, staring blankly at the floor. No-one’s trying to sort him out, though, they’re all too busy. Chan tries not to let that thought affect him too much.

The crowd suddenly roars in response to something, and it startles Chan out of his daze. As his ribcage constricts in an awfully familiar way, Chan stands up and wraps his arms around himself, quickly escaping the room. They’d been given a vague idea of where the bathrooms were when they’d arrived, but that was nearly six hours ago, and Chan’s memory isn’t great at the best of times. He doesn’t quite feel like asking for directions, so he just stumbles down the busy corridors until he spots a handy sign pointing the right way.

As soon as he’s got himself locked in a stall, he’s crouched on the floor with his head between his knees, hands braced on the cold tiles. He just needs to get his breath back, to clear his head, and then he can make his way back to the dressing room and act like nothing is wrong until he can cry in the car on the way back home. He just needs to sort himself out enough to make it through the next few hours.

It sounds simple, but it’s one of the hardest things Chan ever has to do.

Clawing himself down from the height of a panic attack in order to do his job makes him feel so small, and so useless - more so than anything else.

His chest is burning and his eyes are stinging, but after almost ten minutes, he’s able to lift his head and stare at the ceiling, his breathing a little more under control. He can hear Jun’s voice in his head, counting in sets of fours, and he relaxes as he begins to feel a little less hazy. He doesn’t relax too much though, he can’t risk staining his posh suit by sitting on a sticky bathroom floor.

He lets out a long sigh as he gets to his feet, resting his forehead against the cold stall door for a moment before reaching to pull the lock open. Only - it doesn’t. He pulls at it again, blaming the weakness in his shaky hands for it nor working, but it’s still stuck where it is. Chan looks down at it properly, checking that he was tugging on the right bit, unsure if his anxiety had made him disregard the fact that it was one of those weird twisty locks or the ones where you have to push in a different direction than you’d expect.

Nope - it’s a simple push and pull and it’s stuck tight in the locked position. All of Chan’s hard work over the last fifteen minutes goes down the drain as his chest begins to heave and his head spins. He chews on his lower lip as he pulls and pulls on this lock, not even caring about what a mess he is anymore, only caring about _getting out_.

As the coil of anxiety in his chest gets tighter, Chan gets more worked up, tears of frustration pooling under his eyelids. He feels so _stupid_! How does stuff like this happen to him? Knowing him, he’ll never get out, and he’ll miss their performance on this esteemed national program because he’s stuck in a toilet and he didn’t bother to tell any of his members where he was going when he left.

His heart beats faster as he begins hitting the hard junction of his wrist bone against the side of the lock, hardly feeling as the sharp edge of it digs into his skin and draws blood.

Suddenly, the lock moves to the side in one quick jolt and the stall door swings open, Chan stumbling out after it, doubling over as his vision swims. He barely realises that he’s free before he registers just how much he’s panicking. He can’t pull himself out of this one.

The thing is, Chan’s memory is bad, especially when his head is clouded by anxiety. So, even though he knows that he needs to get back to the privacy of the dressing room and the comfort of his members, Chan has no idea where he is, or - more importantly - where he is in relation to them. Instead of standing around looking pathetic, he decides to just walk - someone’s got to find him at some point, right? If he doesn’t get there first.

He straightens his back, drops his throbbing hand to his side, and begins to squeeze through the hoards of people lining the corridors. He doesn’t look to check, but he’s sure that they are staring at him - his red eyes and red cheeks and red hand.

Somehow, he manages to make his way to the immediate backstage, which is the very last place he wants to be right now - the roar of the crowd is even louder, ringing in his ears. But someone must be looking out for him because he spots a collection of suits similar to his own on the other side of the dark room and he nearly melts to the floor out of relief.

As embarrassing as he is, he literally runs towards them, nearly knocking himself off balance as he knocks elbows with other artists and staff that are crowding the area, but he can’t find it in himself to care. Just before he completely squanders their image, he realises that his members are talking to the members of some group far higher on the charts than them, and his whole face flushes in embarrassment.

How could he do this to his team? Be the pathetic little maknae crying his eyes out backstage at the MAMAs whilst his hyungs - being the adults that he should be - are mingling with kpop royalty.

He makes a slight detour, heading for Mingyu who’s stood right at the back and isn’t talking to anybody - hopefully, the others won’t notice him. He crashes into Mingyu’s side, planting his heels into the floor to swallow his momentum so that he can press himself to the elder’s front and hide himself away without making even more of a scene. Mingyu’s arms instinctively wrap around his back, and his name is whispered in a distressed tone against the top of his head. Chan just trembles and buries his face further into the folds of Mingyu’s suit.

“What’s going on?” He hears someone else ask as he’s hurriedly manoeuvred towards the side of the room. “Channie, doll, look at me. What’s happened?” The voice asks again, and Chan belatedly realises that it’s Soonyoung. He twists his neck around to find his hyung - Mingyu helps him into Soonyoung’s arms, strong hands on either side of his ribcage. Soonyoung holds him tightly, pinning them together, chest to chest, steering Chan so that Soonyoung’s back is to the room instead of his.

Chan presses his face into the junction between Soonyoung’s neck and shoulder as the elder’s hands move into their familiar positions - one laying over the back of his head, pinky pressed to the back of his neck, the other rubbing soothing circles into the dip of his lower back. “I’ve got you. You’re okay, you’re okay now.” Soonyoung mumbles against the top of his head, trying his best to protect his baby, but a group of people suddenly swan past them, knocking into Soonyoung and, subsequently, knocking Chan about as well.

Chan whines, high in the back of his throat, as Soonyoung fights to keep his feet beneath himself. Helpless, Soonyoung lifts his head, looking around for some solution to this problem. Thankfully, he almost instantly meets eyes with one of their handlers, who doesn’t look very impressed. Soonyoung doesn’t let her scowl stop him from saying, “we need to get back to the dressing room.”

“No, we can’t do that. Just sort him out here - and quickly.” She replies curtly, and Soonyoung is rendered speechless. He gapes at her stupidly for a minute as Chan continues to grow more restless, irritatedly rolling his head back to stretch out his neck, trying to stop the air from sticking in his throat everytime he tries to take a breath. Soonyoung scratches gently at his scalp in an attempt to comfort him.

“He’s having a panic attack. He’s not going to calm down surrounded by all of these people. We- we’re not even needed for another two hours?” Soonyoung knows that getting snappy and rude will not help his cause at all, but he’s blinded by the urgent need to get Chan somewhere safe and to get him feeling better.

“You’re supposed to be mixing with the top artists in kpop. This is important to your image as a group, you can’t just-” At this point, Chan begins really fussing, squirming in Soonyoung’s arms, feeling suffocated by his tight grip. The lady scowls at him again before looking around, as if checking that no one else is watching them. “Get him to stop that. He looks crazy.”

“It’s only going to get worse. We need to get back to the dressing room.” Soonyoung repeats, instead of yelling at her like he wants to. She finally concedes and points them towards the corridor they had entered from, pressing her phone to her ear. Soonyoung tries not to get distracted by the thought that she cares more about their image than health and well being. He has more important things to focus on right now.

Soonyoung begins to shuffle Chan towards the exit, still holding him tightly despite his protests. Unaware that they had been paying attention to the exchange, Soonyoung startles a little when the rest of the members appear around them, huddling around Soonyoung and Chan as if to create a safe bubble for them. Seungcheol takes the front, as he’s probably the only one that bothered to remember how to get back to their dressing room.

When they get there it’s empty, and Soonyoung drops his hold on Chan as soon as they’re through the door. The younger instantly tumbles onto the floor, landing on his knees and curling around himself. It’s obvious now how far into this he actually is, his face red and damp, his chest stuttering as he hyperventilates, his whole body trembling violently.

Soonyoung worries his lower lip between his teeth, taking a deep breath before he steps closer, crouching down in front of their maknae. He reaches out to take Chan’s hand in his, hoping to ground him a little, remind him that they’re there to help him. “Careful,” Minghao says as he joins them on the floor, taking one of Chan’s hands in his, Soonyoung’s eyes widening when he notices the blood dripping from a gash on his wrist bone.

“Oh, sweetie, what happened to you?” Soonyoung asks, watching Minghao carefully wrapping a towel around Chan’s hand, smiling apologetically when the boy winces, leaning down to press a kiss to the makeshift bandage when it’s secure.

No longer distracted, Soonyoung refocuses on Chan, sobbing and shaking in front of him. “Channie-yah, I know this sucks and I know that you feel awful right now, but I need you to concentrate. Okay? You need to get control of your breathing, or you’re going to pass out.”

Channie pitches himself forward until his face is nestled against Soonyoung’s chest, shaking his head as hard as he can manage. “Can’t- ca- can’t.” He stutters out, although he doesn’t really know if he’s said anything at all. He can’t hear anything past the roaring of blood in his ears.

Suddenly, someone appears behind Chan, hands grasping his shoulders and straightening his back. The new person shuffles forward until their chest is pressed to Chan’s spine, Chan’s head lolling back onto their shoulder, getting a peek of the shiny, black hair that could only belong to Junhui. “Breathe, Channie. You’ve got this.” Jun reassures him before he begins counting in sets of four, his voice almost as soothing as Soonyoung’s thumbs drawing circles on the back of his good hand.

This is a familiar routine - the fours. It’s a technique that Jun’s therapist back in China had taught him. During his first panic attack in front of the members, everyone had blanked, clueless as to what was happening and how to help. Even Hansol and Chan, who had suffered panic attacks themselves, were frozen in the face of their usually happy and cheery hyung crying and hyperventilating on the kitchen floor.

Under his breath, Junhui had begun counting in fours, over and over again, and it soon became apparent that he was using it to control his breathing - in for four, hold for four, out for four. After that, the trick had been adopted by anyone trying to calm Junhui, or anyone else that was a little worked up. It had even worked its way into the pep-talk their leader gave them all before a performance.

It was familiar, and Channie instantly hooked onto the rhythm, timing each of his breaths to the sound of Jun’s voice.

He chokes and coughs at first, unable to finish a full cycle for at least the first five sets. But after that, it gets easier, and his chest is suddenly expanding at the right times and his head is clearing and Soonyoung is smiling against his cheek. “There you go, pumpkin. There you go. You’re doing so well.”

It takes another five minutes before Chan is slumping backwards against Junhui, losing all the strength in his muscles but finally breathing again. He belatedly realises that Jun’s counting has faded out, the room now silent aside from the sound of his members trying to stay quiet - it’s not something they’re great at.

“Come on, doll, let’s get you up,” Junhui says as he and Soonyoung help him to his feet, hanging onto him as his weak knees threaten to betray him and send him plummeting back down onto the carpet. Minghao reappears beside him, a blanket spread out in his arms, and Chan is quickly wrapped up in it and cuddled against Minghao’s chest in the process.

“Here we go.” Minghao murmurs as he carefully manoeuvres Chan through the few steps it takes to get to the nearest sofa, where he lays down with Chan sprawled across his chest. Chan’s head immediately fits into the dip of Minghao’s collarbone, tucked under his chin, where he always ends up when they cuddle like this. He still feels so dizzy and shaky and anxious, but he feels warm and safe as well, which is the best comfort he could ask for.

When Chan opens his eyes, the rest of the members have squeezed onto the remaining two sofas, obviously keeping an eye on how he is but not overtly staring. They’re just there, as they always are. Chan hums, letting out a shaky breath, but he’s content.

He opens his eyes again when a gentle finger strokes across the line of his eyebrow, carefully rousing him. The finger belongs to Jun who’s perched next to Soonyoung on the floor in front of him and Hao - Chan doesn’t let his eyes rest on Jun’s red-tinged eyes, Junhui doesn’t like to make a fuss, but they’ll all still fuss over him later, when Chan’s no longer their immediate concern.

“Here, Channie-yah. Have some water.” Soonyoung says as he brings a water bottle to Chan’s lips, carefully tilting it, being careful not to soak Minghao by accident. “Better?” Soonyoung asks when Chan pushes the bottle away. Chan nods as an answer to his question, nuzzling against Junhui’s hand when it reappears on the side of his face.

Chan opens his eyes to look sleepily up at their leader when he approaches and begins to talk, his voice soft and warm and perfect. “Channie, I know this is the last thing you want to hear right now but we have to perform in an hour. We should probably get you up and moving pretty soon. Unless you don’t think you can do it, that’s fine, I’ll just have to-”

Chan cuts him off by pushing himself up onto his elbows and saying, “I can do it.”

“Are you sure, Chan? You don’t have to.” Minghao says from beneath him, soothing hands rubbing up and down the length of his spine. He, Soonyoung, and Junhui are all looking at him with the same expression, utmost concern and anguish buried in their furrowed brows. Chan gives them the best smile he can muster.

“No, I can do it.”

Junhui giggles - if that isn’t the epitome of their maknae right there, equal parts stubborn and determined, but completely admirable.

**Author's Note:**

> so I wanted to add on a scene where chan explained to pu what got him so worked up but I’m not really feeling it right now?? Plus that would have happened once they had gotten back to the dorms and I didn’t really want to finish this fic the same way as the last one - with them cuddling and then going to bed so … I may add that in later, I may not. anyway 
> 
> thanks for reading! hope you enjoyed!
> 
> **updated 12/10/18**
> 
>  
> 
> [my tumblr](https://hattieie.tumblr.com)


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